


Marks on My Skin (mean something to me)

by franticatlantic



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Dermatillomania, Drug Use, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franticatlantic/pseuds/franticatlantic
Summary: Tyler hasn't left the house in months.Now he agrees to house-sit for the Duns.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags before scrolling down. This fic could be triggering for some.
> 
> Title is inspired by the song 'Doubt' by Twenty One Pilots.

“I think it would be good for you, get you out of the house.”

Tyler turns the volume of his laptop down so low he can barely hear it. His cell phone is wedged between his ear and his shoulder. “Huh?”

His mom coughs irritably on the other end. “I _said_ , I think it would be good for you, to get out of the house.”

Leaning back in his chair, Tyler bites his lip, cycles through the tabs open on his computer. “You think it would be good for this to get me out of the house, or you think it would be good for me to get out of the house?"

“What?” His mom asks after a very long pause.

Tyler shakes his head. “Nothing.” He sighs, digs his fingers into the soft skin behind his knee. He doesn’t tell his mom that house / cat sitting for the Duns really just means he’s going to be sitting in another family’s house doing nothing for a week, or that sitting in the house doing nothing is what he likes best these days.

Besides, he’s not really doing nothing. Some people might see it that way (his mom does), but it’s not nothing.

“Okay,” he acquiesces, switching the phone to his other ear. “I’ll do it.”

“Really?” His mother sounds surprised. “Ty, that’s great! I’ll call Laura and tell her. Ty, this is wonderful.”

“…I guess.” He pulls at the chapped skin on his bottom lip.

“Hey, I’m on my way home. Do you want anything specific for dinner?”

Outside, a bird is chirping on Tyler’s windowsill, picking at its feathers with a yellowed beak. Tyler’s lip has started to bleed. “I’m not hungry.”

-

The Duns have a nice house - big, with an open floor plan and large windows. There’s a boar’s head hanging on the wall in the dining room.

Tyler is picking at the underside of his chin when Miss Dun leads him into the kitchen.

“Squirt’s dry food is in the cabinet next to the fridge. And this window up here…” She shows him the big window above the sink, but turns as she does so, to make sure he’s following. He has to make a conscious effort to lower his hand from his chin. “…it tends to open if there’s even the slightest breeze, so you might hear it banging in the middle of the night. No cause for alarm.”

Tyler nods. His fingers return to the underside of his chin when she turns away, to the sore that’s starting to form right in the middle.

She shows him the cat’s litter box in the basement, where to put the mail when it comes, and which plants he should be watering. His favorite is a cute succulent on the windowsill near the back porch - it’s plump and sharp, like a cactus. When he runs his fingers over it, it pricks him a little.

“Your mom said you’ve done this for other families?” Miss Dun is showing him upstairs now, to the guest bedroom.

Tyler nods even though she can’t see him, slowly climbing the creaky stairs. “Oh yeah, I house sat a lot for people in high school, before…”

Miss Dun stops at the top of the stairs, staring down at him from the landing with a sad smile. “Your mom told me about that. You tore-“

“-my ACL, yeah.” His leg is tingling. He shakes it a little. He doesn’t want to talk about this. “So yeah, I used to dog sit and cat sit and I took care of this lady’s bunnies one time.”

“Nice to have someone who knows what he’s doing,” Miss Dun laughs.

The guest room is small, with two twin beds spaced evenly apart. “This used to be Josh and Jordan’s room before they moved out. You knew them, right?”

“Yeah, I went to school with them. I was in Josh’s class.”

Miss Dun nods, a faraway look in her eyes. Tyler leans down and surreptitiously rubs the side of his knee over his pants leg.

At the front door, Miss Dun gives him a key and reminds him again of when she and her husband will be leaving and returning. “And if you want to go out and spend time with your friends, Squirt should be fine by himself for a couple hours.”

Squirt, the black and white cat Tyler will be taking care of for a week, is currently rubbing himself against Tyler’s leg and purring like a Mack Truck. Tyler bends to pet him, doesn’t tell Miss Dun that that’s not something he does anymore - the whole going out with friends thing.

Or having them, really.

His mom is waiting for him out front. He scrambles into the passenger seat and immediately rolls his pants up.

“So, how was it?” His mom starts the car.

“Fine.” He breathes a sigh of relief, fingers scratching hard at the ugly scar tissue around his kneecap. “They’re leaving Monday morning so I guess you can drop me there in the afternoon.”

“You didn’t pick while you were in there, did you?”

Tyler wishes he could lie, but his mom would know anyway. “A little.”

“Damnit, Tyler, you have _got_ to stop doing that.” Her knuckles are white around the steering wheel.

And Tyler knows, okay? He knows he has to stop, wishes it were that simple.

But even as they pull out of the Duns’ community, he stays hunched over himself, fingers prodding at his knee.

When they’re a few miles from home, he abandons the now irritated skin of his leg and starts picking once more at his chin. There’s a shudder of pain all the way down his neck and his hand comes away sticky with blood.

When he grabs a napkin out of the glove compartment, his mom just sighs.

-

Half a week later, Tyler’s back in the Duns’ giant house, sans Mr. and Mrs. Dun. A note has been left for him on the kitchen table, which he reads while Squirt bunts his head against Tyler’s fingers.

_Tyler,_  
_Help yourself to anything in the fridge - we stocked before you left so you wouldn’t go hungry._

_Thanks again,_  
_Laura_

Tyler helps himself to a fat free yogurt, freshens Squirt’s wet food, and then gets himself set up on the couch. Setting up consists of turning on the TV above the fireplace and getting comfortable in the corner of the sofa with his laptop.

He only half-watches TV - some comedy show about secret agents - as he scrolls YouTube, Tumblr, and Facebook. The last tab open is entitled Derma Support. This page he refreshes constantly, as he has been doing for the past five months, hoping, praying that someone will eventually post something useful. He’s never posted himself, mostly just scrolled through the list under the tab ‘things to do instead of picking.’

On this list are the options _go for a run, listen to music, watch a movie._

Tyler doesn’t run anymore - the surgery left his leg permanently stiff and kind of painful. No matter how loud he turns his music up he still feels the urge to scratch. And even if he were to set his laptop aside and tune into a movie on TV, he’d still find himself picking by the five minute mark.

The irony of the situation is, even as he’s thinking all this and tabbing back to Tumblr with one hand, his other is steadily dig digging away at his knee. He only stops when he realizes it would probably be a bad idea to bleed all over the Duns’ nice couch.

So he scratches at his ear instead. At least that way he’ll bleed on himself.

-

He decides he doesn’t want to sleep upstairs in the complete dark of the guest bedroom, where there’s no TV or even a ceiling fan to keep him company. So he gets ready for bed in the downstairs bathroom.

When he looks in the mirror, he sees a normal boy. His ear is red where he’s scratched it, but hasn’t started to bleed yet. His lips are bitten raw, but most people would just chalk that up to being chapped or a little dehydrated. There’s a sore beside his nose that looks like a pimple.

It’s only if someone were to look closer that they would see anything out of the ordinary - for instance if Tyler tips his chin up just a bit, the person in question would see a smattering of marks and scars, red purple pink constellations where Tyler has mutilated himself.

The worst, however, are his legs. Specifically the knee that never had time to heal properly because Tyler pulled all his stitches out after the operation, forcing his mom to take him back to the hospital, where the doctors had to pull his skin even tighter and seal him up that way.

His knee is still swollen and puffy, a valley of smooth scar tissue surrounded by hills and mountains of newer scabs and lesions that Tyler has put there himself over the course of the past few months. The damage becomes scarcer the further you get from what Tyler likes to call Area X - bruises on his thighs, cuts on his stomach, scratch marks on his chest.

He realizes he forgot toothpaste so he opens the medicine cabinet with sore fingers (he bites quite frequently at his fingernails). He doesn’t find any toothpaste, but on the second shelf from the bottom he does see a pair of tweezers. Shiny and silver and sharp.

He slams the cabinet so hard the glass shakes, clambers from the bathroom struggling into his pajama bottoms.

After he feeds Squirt and scoops the litter box, he collapses on the couch and pulls the duvet on the back over him, falls asleep scratching his wrist.

-

When Tyler wakes up there’s a banging noise coming from the kitchen.

Blinking sleep from his eyes, he sees in the dim glow from the television that Squirt has curled up beside him. He’s snoring softly, little pink nose twitching. The Josephs have never had any pets because of Zack’s allergies, but Tyler always wanted a cat.

He puts a hand on Squirt and listens carefully. More banging. It’s the window that opens sometimes when there’s too much wind. _No cause for alarm,_ Miss Dun had said. Tyler isn’t alarmed, just unable to sleep with an incessant banging just around the corner.

When he makes to get up, Squirt trills indignantly and slides from the couch as well, slinking into the kitchen, where Tyler hears him crunching on his dry food.

Rounding the corner, Tyler rubs at his eyes with one hand and uses the other to pinch a bit of skin on his jaw and pull. The clock on the microwave says it’s 2 in the morning.

The person currently clambering through the window says the banging wasn’t just said window.

Tyler screams. No one ever left him a note on how to handle a home invasion.

There are pots and pans hanging over the kitchen island. In his haste to grab one, he forgets to open his fingers and accidentally rips a small piece of skin from his jaw. He barely feels it, wraps his fingers around the handle of a frying pan and swings it around to bring it down on the person’s head.

“Ow!” A male voice cries out. The guy’s foot gets stuck in the sink and he does a front flip over the edge, landing on his ass right in front of Tyler.

“Don’t move!” Tyler yells, hand shaking as he holds the frying pan out. “I _will_ hit you again!”

“ _Please_ don’t,” the guy groans, and the hood of the sweater he’s wearing slips off, revealing bright pink hair. As he raises his hand, his sleeve slips down to reveal a tattoo.

Tyler balks. “T-Then I’m calling the cops.”

“Dude, I _live_ here.”

Tyler doesn’t have an answer to that.

The guy looks up at him through tranquil brown eyes, arm still raised in a half-salute. “By all means, this-“ he gestures to the pink mark blooming on the side of his forehead “-should be yours. Because this is my house.”

With a jerk of his arm, Tyler drops the frying pan. It clatters loudly on the floor and Squirt jumps into view, nuzzling the guy’s leg. “Josh? Josh Dun?”

Josh nods, pushing his fingers against Squirt’s face. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh my gosh, I’m _Tyler_. We went to high school together? You probably don’t remember me. I’m house sitting for your parents while they’re away. Jesus, I’m sorry.” He drops down beside Josh, trying to move Josh’s fingers where they’re prodding at his forehead. “Here, lemme…”

He gets to his feet and yanks the freezer open, grabs the first ice pack he finds and brings it back, presses it to Josh’s forehead just for him to wince and hiss and mutter, “cold.” So he wraps it in a paper towel and lays it gently against the abrasion. Josh’s hand joins his, fingers rough over Tyler’s as Tyler slips his away, tucks his hands into the long sleeves of his shirt.

For a minute, they sit in silence - Josh holding the ice pack and petting Squirt, Tyler crouched with his arms wrapped tight around his legs.

Then Josh reaches out and the backs of his knuckles scrape down the side of Tyler’s face. “Did I do that?”

“Do what?” Tyler asks just as Josh says, “You’re bleeding.”

From where he was picking when Josh startled him. Tyler curses silently and shakes his head, goes to get another paper towel and hold it to his jaw. “I did…uh, that was me.”

Josh doesn’t say anything so Tyler leans against the island looking down at him. “Why didn’t you just use the front door?”

Josh sniffs. “Lost my key while I was on tour.”

“You could’ve, I dunno, _knocked_?”

Josh looks up at him coldly. “I didn’t know my parents were away. I didn’t wanna wake them up.”

Tyler shrugs, backing down. “Fair enough.”

Josh holds his free hand out. “Help me up?”

Tyler does so, yanking hard on Josh’s arm and helping him clean up the kitchen.

After he throws his bloody paper towel away, he turns from the trashcan to find Josh staring at him. He pulls his sleeves down further and bites at his lip, then reminds himself to stop. “So…if you’re here does that mean I should leave?”

What Josh does next is what Tyler would classify as ‘looking him over.’ “My parents are paying you, right?”

Tyler nods.

“For the week?”

He nods again.

Josh shrugs. “Then you should stay. We can, uh, make it a party or something.” He turns to head through the dining room and into the living room, motioning with his free hand for Tyler to follow.

With nothing else to do, Tyler does so. Josh plops himself down on the sofa and pulls Tyler down next to him, reaching forward to grab the remote. “Hockey?” He gestures at the TV.

“I wasn’t really watching,” Tyler shakes his head. “I just had it on while I slept.”

“Yeah, weren’t you like, the basketball guy?” Josh is flipping through channels, the heat of his bicep pressed to Tyler’s.

“I guess…you could say that.”

There is a spot on the underside of Tyler’s chin that is begging to be scratched.

Josh settles on old episodes of Courage the Cowardly Dog, still holding the ice pack to his head. “You still play?”

“No, I-“ His leg twitches. Josh notices. “-I tore my ACL.”

A hum from Josh, who proceeds to ask him questions for the next hour so they hardly watch TV at all. Tyler isn’t really tired - after all the commotion in the kitchen he’s settled down again and his fingers are itching to dig at his ear, to slice through the nasty scabs on his knee.

“I gotta take a piss,” Josh mutters eventually, and jumps off the couch to sprint upstairs.

He’s gone way longer than it takes for any normal guy to take a leak, but Tyler gives no shits. By the time Josh comes back he has picked so bad at the scabs on his knee that he can feel many of them leaking - either blood or pus - inside his pants.

He plays it cool, slides his hand out of his pants and holds his knee just so that the blood won’t seep through and get on the Duns’ nice couch. “Dude, the episode with the creepy mask people is on,” he says just as Josh joins him back on the sofa.

The ice pack is gone and Josh smells weird, like burning.

But the strangest thing is that as he plants himself back next to Tyler, he doesn’t stop coming. He throws an arm around Tyler’s shoulders and muscles up against him, planting his nose in Tyler’s hair and…nuzzling him?

Tyler leans away instinctually, throwing his elbow out just enough to keep Josh from coming any closer. “Whoa, dude-“

“You’re _cute_ ,” Josh says, low, like the sentiment is coming from his chest.

It makes Tyler shiver and close his eyes, lick his blistered lips. “You’re…not ugly,” he says awkwardly.

Josh huffs a laugh against the shell of his ear, kisses him there, where it’s probably still red from Tyler scratching. He kisses the side of Tyler’s neck, fists his hand in the opposite side of his hair.

“Josh-“

He’s gone, sliding down the couch and between Tyler’s legs. Tyler has no choice but to put his leaking leg back down against the sofa cushions, what with the way Josh is pushing his thighs open. Then he’s tugging at the waist of Tyler’s pants and Tyler almost kicks him in the face.

“Please don’t-“

Even though he’s scrabbling to pull them back up, Josh gets the pants down to around Tyler’s thighs and then stops. Tyler’s heartbeat slows down, pleased that Josh at least isn’t going to see the worst of it.

There are still bruises and scrapes on his thighs, but Josh doesn’t seem to notice these as he busies himself with swallowing Tyler’s cock.

Tyler chokes, hands going to Josh’s hair. He notices a bit of blood under one fingernail, a fleck of scab under another. The sight makes his stomach roll, so he throws his head back and looks at the ceiling instead. There’s a nip at his thigh. “Ouch,” he murmurs, glances down.

“Look at me,” Josh pops off to say, lips slick and swollen. He keeps Tyler’s gaze as he wraps his mouth back around him, eyes focused and yet unfocused at the same time.

Tyler brushes Josh’s pink hair back from his forehead, sees Josh wince when he accidentally brushes the mark from earlier, which is swelling pretty bad now. “Sorry,” he sighs, tucks his hands instead behind Josh’s head so he doesn’t have to see them anymore.

Tyler’s hips are working up against Josh’s lips. Josh gags every now and then, but doesn’t seem to mind it. Tyler knows he’s making these stupid little breathy sounds, but he doesn’t care either.

After a while, Tyler getting close, Josh’s hand goes to Tyler’s shirt, pushing it up. Tyler grabs at his wrist, pushes it back down. “No,” he breathes, voice steadier than he imagined it would be. Josh looks up at him through watery eyes and hums, as if to say ‘to each his own.’

When he feels ready, Tyler tugs at Josh’s hair and tries to buck him off. “Hey…hey, I’m close.”

Josh just shakes his head around Tyler, takes him deeper. Oh fuck, Tyler thinks. Josh wants to swallow. That gets Tyler impossibly harder, twitching in Josh’s mouth, and he comes just as Josh presses the backs of two fingers against his balls.

Tyler can’t think, his eyeballs hurt from coming so hard.

Before he can gather his thoughts, Josh presses his lips hard to Tyler’s in a sloppy kiss, swapping spit and cum and brushing a thumb against the curve of Tyler’s jaw. Tyler leans forward when Josh pulls back, chasing the kiss.

There’s a speck of red on Josh’s lips. Tyler furrows his brow, still breathing hard. Josh wipes the speck away, grinning lopsidedly. “You’re bleeding.” He jumps to his feet and mutters, “night.”

Tyler hears him creaking up the stairs, hears a door shut quietly.

He swipes at his lip and realizes he bit through it when he came.

His pants are still around his thighs and there’s a spot of blood on the couch.

-

In the morning, Tyler’s mouth feels like cotton. He smacks his lips and sits up, feels the damp spot where he scrubbed the blood off the couch last night.

It’s hard to believe that happened, even harder to believe he’s going to stay here and walk into the kitchen in the next few minutes where he can hear Josh eating breakfast and cooing softly at Squirt.

He stretches on the couch and turns the TV off, hears the clink of metal as Josh presumably sets his fork or spoon or whatever down. He knows Tyler’s up - no sense in prolonging the inevitable.

He holds his breath as he enters the kitchen, but it all comes rushing out when he sees Josh at the kitchen table. “Holy shit!” He shouts, and Squirt scatters into the hallway.

Josh’s forehead looks like someone split it open, shoved a tennis ball against his skull, and then sewed him back up again. The skin around the lump is purple and black, edges turning puke green. “Dude, I am _so_ sorry,” Tyler says, reaches toward Josh only to be reminded of last night.

There’s a small smile on Josh’s face - he’s stirring his spoon slowly around his cereal. “Looks sick, right?”

“Looks pretty gross,” Tyler says, thinking of his fucked up knee as he goes to the sink and fills the watering can.

Josh’s eyes track him around the room as he waters the plants in the kitchen. “Mom’s got you pretty well trained to be her little minion, huh?”

Tyler goes to feed Squirt and sees that Josh has already done so. He sits across from Josh at the table. “I used to do this all the time in high school. I’m used to it.” He’s about to facetiously ask what’s for breakfast, when his brain rudely reminds him - yet again - of last night, of the warmth of Josh’s mouth. The mouth that’s currently stretched around the metal spoon as it strains his lips on its way out. Tyler clears his throat and looks away, feels his face heating up.

“Last night,” Josh says.

Tyler stares at the boar head in the dining room.

“Tyler, look at me.”

He does so, grudgingly.

But Josh’s eyes are soft, slightly rimmed with red. His smile is equally as soft. “I’m sorry, but I’m also not. You’re cute, man. I thought so in high school too, but we ran in different circles. Never thought the boy’s basketball MVP would be gay.”

Tyler’s not gay. But there’s no reason Josh has to know that. He likes guys and girls and he’s currently tugging at the skin on his wrist. He places his hand mechanically on the table.

“Always a first time for everything, huh?” He chuckles.

“Yeah. And I mean…it was good, right?” Josh gives him this look - somewhere between sweet and seducing - that makes Tyler think of baby shoes dangling from the rearview mirror.

Tyler grins and laughs out loud, skin buzzing. “It was _really_ good.”

“Maybe we could do it again, then.” Josh stands and goes to the sink, then the fridge.

Tyler’s stomach sinks. They can’t do it again. Or anything more, if that’s what Josh is thinking. Tyler can’t have that, now or ever. Maybe, if he could go back to being normal, stop picking and scratching and mangling himself. But with the state his body’s in right now…Josh would be sick to look at him.

And why not? He’s sick to look at himself.

Josh makes him eggs while Tyler stews, asks him more questions about his family and how he’s been since high school, what he’s been doing.

Then Tyler devours the eggs while Josh watches him with what looks like a fond expression. He burps and offers to help Josh wash the dishes, but Josh just takes everything and dumps it in the sink, says he’ll get to it later.

They find themselves back on the couch and Tyler looks longingly at his laptop on the coffee table. He’s never gone this long without checking the forums since this whole thing started. Not that he thinks anyone will have posted something useful in the past 12 hours - they never do - but there’s still something in him that compels him to check.

Instead, he lets Josh pull him close with an arm around his shoulders.

They watch some horror TV show for a few hours and as nice as it is to be close to someone the way Josh seems to want him close, he still knows what happened last night can’t happen again. So whenever he feels that Josh is trying to make a move he pulls away or reaches to scratch an itch that doesn’t exist or even fakes a sneeze.

He can tell that Josh is disappointed, but he’ll be even more disappointed when he sees what Tyler sees every time he takes his clothes off.

At half past four, Josh’s stomach grumbles and he claps a hand over it. “You want some pizza?”

Tyler nods and joins Josh in the kitchen as he calls their order in - half pepperoni, half just cheese, with stuffed crust and balsamic glaze.

Josh hangs up and Tyler makes for the living room once more. “Dude, I know you love this American Horror Show or whatever, but can we watch-“

He yelps as Josh grabs at his wrist, pulls him none too gently back toward him, pins him against the island with his hands on Tyler’s waist and his feet planted wide around Tyler’s ankles.

“Josh, what’re you-“

“What’s wrong?” His hands go to Tyler’s cheeks, framing his face, dangerously close to Tyler’s chin and the disgusting marks underneath it. “You wanted me last night, so why have you been pushing me away today?”

Tyler’s anger flares, and he pushes Josh away physically this time, plants his hands on Josh’s chest and shoves almost as hard as he can. Josh stumbles back and Tyler exhales sharply. “I don’t know what people let you get away with when you were on tour or whatever, but you can’t do whatever you want to me just because you feel like it!”

Josh splays his arms wide, expression surprised. “I wasn’t…Tyler, I wasn’t gonna do anything you didn’t want. I just…you were so into it last night. Unless…you weren’t?”

Tyler crosses his arms. “I was. I really liked it.”

“But you don’t want to do it again?”

“I didn’t say that either.” Tyler cards his fingers through his hair, tugs at it. “I just don’t want…what we did last night. Maybe…maybe this time I could do you?”

Looking even more surprised, Josh takes a step forward. “Really?”

“Yeah. But…the pizza.”

“They said it would be at least 45 minutes.”

“We might need longer.” Tyler gulps. “I’ve never done this before.”

Josh takes Tyler’s hand gently, thumb rubbing slow circles over his knuckles. “I’ll teach you.”

-

No one ever tells you when you have another guy’s penis in your mouth how bad your jaw is going to ache.

Tyler keeps having to pull off and massage the side of his face.

But Josh lets him have all the time he needs, even though they’re probably dangerously close to the 45 minute mark. If the delivery guy rings the doorbell while Josh is coming in or around his mouth, he’ll die.

He might die anyway, with the things Josh is saying. He’s so vocal, talking about Tyler’s “fucking lips” and his “fucking tongue” and calling him baby. “Watch your teeth, baby” and “Just like that, baby.”

When Josh tells him how pretty he is, Tyler whimpers and sucks as hard as he can at Josh’s dick, fingers flexing on Josh’s thighs. Josh groans loudly and slides his hands into Tyler’s hair.

There was a time right after the accident that Tyler was picking at his scalp. But he’s since abandoned that in favor of his chin, so he slides off to tell Josh that he can pull as hard as he wants.

Josh shakes his head, petting Tyler’s. “Not right now. Just…keep going. Please.”

Tyler nods and does as he’s told and he’s not so sure about the whole Josh coming in his mouth thing. But where else would he prefer him to come? On his face? On his lips? Certainly not any lower than that.

So when Josh does finally start tugging, moaning loud enough to alert the neighbors, Tyler keeps on, choking as Josh comes and scowling at the sour-salty taste.

Josh starts laughing almost as soon as he’s calmed down, fingers still petting through Tyler’s hair.

“Asshole,” Tyler mutters good-naturedly, pushes his hand away just as the doorbell rings.

He gets up and goes to the kitchen to wash his mouth out (with soap if he has to) while Josh pulls his pants up and hops his way to the door.

He downs half a Coke Zero and carries the rest back to the living room, where Josh is standing with the pizza box, pubes poking out of the waist of his pants.

“You answered the door like that?” Tyler asks incredulously.

“Why not? _Matthew_ didn’t seem to mind. I tipped him a fiver.”

-

That night, he and Josh eat their pizza and watch more TV.

The only thing that keeps him from pulling away when Josh leans in now is the fact that he doesn’t think Josh will want to do anything more after he just came. So he lets Josh feed him a small piece of pepperoni, lets Josh put his arm around him, lets Josh nap on his shoulder.

It’s still weird, letting a boy he hardly knows in like this. Not that he thinks they’re dating or in love or anything crazy like that, but even sex has been…something he hasn’t thought about since the surgery.

And Josh said he was _cute_. Just the thought has him blushing, looking away from Josh as Josh shifts in his sleep.

Tyler swipes the grease from his hands and carefully tucks a tuft of Josh’s bright pink hair behind his ear. Which is stretched, so Tyler grazes his finger over the hole, mesmerized.

Josh murmurs sleepily and blinks dark, sleep slick eyes open.

He kisses Tyler’s jaw and Tyler tilts his head down, to hide his chin. “Think I’m ‘onna go t’sleep,” Josh mumbles, sitting up. Tyler immediately misses his warmth. “Y’wanna come up?”

That’s actually not something Tyler is interested in at all. He doesn’t want to give Josh the wrong idea or lead him on or whatever. He shakes his head as Josh stands, lays down on the couch before Josh can ask again. “No thanks.”

Josh looks sad for all of two seconds before he sinks to his knees and shuffles forward. Tyler’s heart leaps into his throat and he gathers the covers up around him. Josh chuckles. “Relax, man.” He knee-walks further toward Tyler, up near his head. Then he leans in and just stares. “…can I kiss you?”

Mouth clamped tightly shut, Tyler nods.

When Josh leans in and brushes his lips against Tyler’s, he also brushes the backs of his fingers against Tyler’s forehead, rustles a few strands of his hair, in a way that makes it extremely hard not to want to go upstairs with him. “Goodnight,” Tyler rasps when Josh pulls away.

“Night,” Josh whispers, leans in for another quick kiss, even gentler this time if possible.

With Josh upstairs, Tyler finally exhales shakily and worms his hand into his pants. He’s been kind of turned on ever since he blew Josh before the pizza came. And even though he hasn’t jacked off in forever, he takes to it pretty quickly, biting his lip and stifling his moans and he’s close within a few minutes.

He thinks about Josh, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way he sometimes claps his hands on his thighs when he doesn’t know what to do with them, the tattoos that snake their way up his arm.

Reminding himself to stop biting his lip, he balls his free hand into a fist instead, fingernails digging hard into his palms. It’s this fist that hits the discarded pizza box when he comes, shaking and wiggling his hips, cum dribbling over his fingers and onto his thighs.

He wants to stand and clean himself up, but finds that he’s exhausted. So he licks his own cum off his hand and rolls over.

He should take a shower tomorrow anyway.

-

Neither the downstairs bathroom nor the one in the upstairs hallway has a shower, so Tyler gathers his things early in the morning and creeps upstairs. He feels odd using Josh’s parents’ private bathroom, so he tries the door to Josh’s old room and finds that it’s unlocked.

He opens the door slowly, sees the back of Josh’s bright hair where he’s sat up in bed. He thinks he imagines the smoke tendrils curling up around Josh’s head, but as the light catches them he realizes they’re real.

Tyler grins and gives a tiny knock on the doorframe. “You didn’t tell me you smoked,” he tries to say, but Josh is coughing, jumping up from the bed like it’s burned him, waving a hand through the smoke and trying to get rid of the cigarette.

Only it’s not. As Josh turns, Tyler sees what he’s holding is longer and thinner than a cigarette, not the same color. “Ty-le-r,” Josh hacks, putting the blunt out haphazardly on the corner of his dresser. “This isn’t-“

“It’s weed?”

Josh finally stops coughing, a hand held to his chest over his threadbare T-shirt showcasing a band Tyler’s never heard of. His face is slightly red. “Tyler, I didn’t want you to-“

“You smoke weed.”

“…yes.”

Tyler shrugs, hugs his clothes and shampoo tighter to his chest. “It’s fine. Just not my thing.”

“Which is why I didn’t want you to find out.” Josh takes a step toward him.

Tyler steps back, cocks his head in the direction of the bathroom. “I came up to shower, if you don’t mind?”

Slowly, Josh nods, wrings his hands together. “Sure.”

-

When he was ten Tyler had ridden his bike into Tim Matherson’s mailbox post. He cut his hands, bloodied his nose, and lacerated both knees. Afterward, he had stumbled up the driveway to his own house, weepy and horrified at the sight of so much blood coming out of him.

This was sort of like that - letting the hot water of the shower wash over him and staring unseeingly at the blue tile wall. His leg stings, the mark on his jaw smarts, and he can’t stop thinking about the fact that Josh is a pothead.

He ultimately decides that it doesn’t matter, though; he and Josh aren’t together and they can’t be. Josh could be a fucking heroin addict and it shouldn’t matter to him. Because Tyler will leave in five days and never see Josh again.

He’s scratching idly at his knee, and his nail gets caught on the edge of a scab, ripping it up and halfway off. He squeals loudly and glances down, sees the scab curled up and over on the side of his leg. He’s done this so often that he knows there’s no way to get the dead half off without the other. So he carefully peels the rest off, biting down on his hand to stifle his grunts of pain.

Then he sits on the floor of the shower until the water washes all of his blood down the drain.

-

It’s more awkward in the kitchen now than it was the morning after Josh sucked him off.

Josh doesn’t cook for Tyler - he eats his cereal while Tyler sucks yogurt off his spoon. They sit in silence.

“This is stupid,” Josh finally says. “I’m sorry.”

Tyler meets his eyes and makes a face. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I hardly know you.”

A pause. “True.” Josh looks…hurt? Offended, maybe.

A longer pause. Then Josh says, “I have to go to the mall today, to buy some new clothes. You wanna come with?”

“Sure. Let me just brush my teeth.”

In the downstairs bathroom, Tyler brushes his teeth and fixes his hair and as he’s staring in the mirror he remembers the tweezers. He opens the medicine cabinet with shaking fingers, brushes them over the tweezers so that they rattle against the metal shelf, and then shuts the cabinet again.

Josh is going to buy clothes.

What if he goofs around and wants Tyler to try some on with him? What if Josh tries to kiss him amidst the racks of clothes, tries to put a hand under his shirt, feels the scratches on Tyler’s belly?

Tyler feels very sick.

When he exits the bathroom, Josh is waiting by the door, a beanie pulled down low over the bruise on his forehead. “You ready?”

“I don’t…think I wanna go anywhere.”

Josh frowns. “Is this about the weed thing?”

“No.” Tyler is still stood near the bathroom door, hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie. “I feel sick all of a sudden.”

Biting his lip, Josh nods. The furniture seems to groan. “Okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

He doesn’t leave right away, though, just stares at Tyler for a while longer. A gust of wind blows by outside.

When he does finally go, the front door slides shut with a sigh and Tyler sits on the couch trying not to cry.

-

He mostly succeeds, watches Ocean’s Eleven on TV and scrolls the forums.

Around 2 he gets a text from his mom - _How are things?_

_They’re good. Their son came home, though._

_What?_

_Josh. He came home and is staying here. It’s a little weird lol._

A minute later, his phone rings. “Hello?”

“Tyler?” His mom sounds harried. “Who came home?”

“Josh. Their son? He came home the first night I was here, scared the shit out of me.”

“Tyler.”

“Sorry. Crap.”

“Not that-“

There’s a knock at the door and Tyler shoots up. “Ma, I gotta go, he’s back. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hangs up and goes to open the door for Josh, who sweeps into the living room with what looks like the entire mall.

Tyler studies the sea of bags on the floor. “What, did you loot the place?” There’s a lot of Hot Topic and H&M.

Josh shrugs, smiling a cheeky grin. “I needed all new clothes. Nothing here fit.”

Tyler’s phone rings again and he silences it. He peeks into one of the Hot Topic bags. “You didn’t bring anything home from tour?”

Josh doesn’t answer, just gathers the bags back up and pecks Tyler on the cheek as he passes to the stairs. Tyler rubs at the spot shyly.

-

Josh cooks dinner that night smelling faintly of pot and Tyler doesn’t mind it. He sits at the table reading movie reviews in the paper while Josh fries the burgers.

They eat on the couch like always, Squirt curled up against Josh’s thigh. Tyler rubs only minimally at his knee.

It’s getting late and Tyler thinks maybe he can dodge another night of fooling around, listing against Josh’s side and feeling his eyes go heavy. He stretches an arm across Josh’s middle and yawns.

Which leaves Josh free to put his arm around Tyler, lift the hem of his shirt up a bit. “You always wear so many clothes,” Josh purrs.

Tyler hums, something nagging at the back of his mind, like a tiny someone pulling on his hair.

“You should wear less,” comes the purr again, Josh’s warm hand rucking Tyler’s shirt up further, curling over his waist.

The nagging has moved to the center of his brain now, that tiny someone sounding a loud alarm instead of just pulling at his hair. He sits up with a gasp, wide awake, and scrambles away from Josh to the opposite end of the couch, where he curls up and drags the bottom of his shirt as far down as it’ll go.

“What did you see?” Tyler breathes. “What did you _feel_?”

There’s this look on Josh’s face that makes Tyler feel like everything is ruined. “Some bumps? Pimples, maybe. What is it?”

“Not pimples, I can tell you that.” All of a sudden, Tyler knows what he has to do. He’s off the couch, gathering his things, grabbing his phone so he can call his mom and tell her to come pick him up.

But Josh is there, sliding an arm so gently under Tyler’s elbow that Tyler doesn’t even try to pull away. “Did somebody hurt you, Tyler?”

“No!” Tyler’s still holding his bag, his phone, and his pillow as he turns to face Josh with tears in his eyes. “I mean yes, b-but…it’s not what you think. And I can’t _tell_ you.”

He makes to pull his arm from Josh’s grasp, but Josh holds firm. He takes the items from Tyler’s arms and sets them down before leading Tyler back to the couch, like a parent comforting a child. “You can tell me, Tyler. You can tell me if someone did something to you, you can tell me if it was an accident, you can tell me…hell, you can tell me you did this to yourself. I just wanna know.”

“I did.” Tyler sniffles, surprised that only a few tears have fallen.

Josh raises an eyebrow, confused and wanting Tyler to continue.

“I did this to myself. I do… _things_ to myself. I don’t know what most people call it or how I should describe it, but I have-“ he can’t say it, but he makes himself “-I have this disorder. Dermatillomania. It basically means I hurt myself. Most people call it picking, and I can’t stop. That’s the worst thing. I know it’s disgusting and I know I should stop, but I _can’t_. No matter how hard I try.”

Even just talking about it has his skin crawling, specifically a spot on his calf that he wants to pull at until it bleeds. He tucks his hands under his armpits and sobs pathetically.

Josh doesn’t touch him and Tyler doesn’t expect him to. He does, however, say, “You…” then trails off and tries again. “How long have you been like this?”

Tyler can tell you the exact date and time, but those things would mean nothing to Josh. “I don’t know if you were still at home or if you’d moved out already, your mom might have told you about it, but it was after high school. I started college and I made varsity basketball and my parents were…my parents were parents. They were proud of me and I was happy and still had friends who wanted to hang out and then.” Every word is like barbed wire being shoved past his lips. “Then I tore my ACL during a game and had to get surgery. Afterward, I don’t know what happened. I started pulling at my stitches for some reason, I don’t know _why_. But then I had to go back in for another surgery because otherwise my leg wasn’t ever gonna heal and I picked _those_ stitches, too. Luckily it eventually healed, but my knee still looks like shit because of the first go-round. And I haven’t stopped since. My whole body is like that. It’s nasty.”

Tyler isn’t crying anymore. In fact, he doesn’t feel much of anything aside from how much it sucks to be telling Josh this, the one person who has shown interest in him since this whole thing started.

Josh shifts. “And that’s why you don’t wanna have sex with me?”

“I _do_ want to have sex with you, though. That’s the whole point. You’re the one who wouldn’t wanna see this.” He gestures at himself.

“What if I said I did?”

Tyler meets Josh’s gaze, steady and unblinking, eyes like cocoa - sweet and reassuring. “I’d say you’re crazy.”

“I might be crazy,” Josh says and he’s moving swiftly over to Tyler’s side of the couch, crawling over him and holding himself above Tyler’s quivering frame, “but not because of this.”

Tyler slides down and fists his hands in the front of Josh’s shirt. He wants Josh to see him, wants someone to tell him he’s not weird or gross or ugly. But he’s too scared to tell him that.

Josh’s words are like waves over Tyler’s body, mesmerizing and consoling at the same time. “Let me take you upstairs.”

And Tyler does.

-

Josh wants to take things slow, presumably to avoid scaring the shit out of Tyler.

Tyler’s about to have the shit scared out of him anyway so as soon as Josh has laid him down on the bed and kissed him once, he pulls his shirt off and struggles out of his pants, wanting this over with as soon as possible. Wanting Josh to grimace and move away, tell him it’s too much, that he doesn’t want this like he thought he did.

Instead Josh kisses him, lower this time, on the apex of his chest. Then again just below his left nipple, and again on the right side of his ribs.

Tyler can’t look and Josh doesn’t ask him to, this time.

“Do they hurt?” Josh breathes out against his abdomen.

Tyler swallows almost painfully. “Some of them. My knee…” _My knee is what hurts the most_ , he wants to say, but his throat closes up and his tongue won’t work.

He feels Josh’s fingers tenderly under his leg, pressing just so against the backside. When the pads of his fingers scrape considerately over the mess on Tyler’s knee, Tyler shivers and laughs humorlessly.

“Jesus,” he sighs, passes his hands up and over his closed eyes, into his hair.

He expects Josh to make a joke about that, but Josh, his mouth hovering somewhere near Tyler’s thigh, says, “Well. You’re not ugly.”

Tyler blinks his eyes open slowly, looks down at Josh even slower. The sight of his mangled knee has his stomach churning. He’s not sure how Josh can stand to be so close to it.

“It’s true,” Josh says, drags himself back up to Tyler’s level. But his hand is still curled around Tyler’s leg, only actually making contact at a few points. “I know that’s what you think. But you’re not ugly. And you’re not weird. And I still wanna fuck you if you want me to.”

A sob working its way up into his chest, Tyler wraps his good leg around Josh’s waist and forgets the rest.

-

When he wakes up, Josh is shaking.

He has his arms wrapped around Tyler from behind, but his face is hidden in Tyler’s shoulder blade and he’s shivering.

“Josh?” Tyler croaks, eyes slow to open.

Josh grunts, has obviously been up for a while. He doesn’t say anything.

“You sick?”

Josh grunts again, an affirmative this time. “S-sorry. I don’t wanna ge-et you sick.”

He starts to disentangle himself from Tyler, but Tyler turns swiftly and wraps an arm around Josh’s shoulders. “No, no. I just wanna make you feel better. Do you have any soup here or some cold meds?”

“Probably down in the kitchen, if there is any.”

“Okay.” Tyler gives Josh a kiss to the cheek and then stands, scouring the floor for his clothes.

“Don’t,” Josh mutters, one shaking arm held out. “Kinda like you like that.”

“Nude?” Tyler asks, Josh smirks and nods, and Tyler rolls his eyes. “I at least have to wear pants.”

Josh gives a long-suffering groan as Tyler heads downstairs.

He feeds Squirt, scoops the litter box, waters the plants, and finds some Advil. Then he cooks a bowl of soup and brings it up to Josh, who’s still shivering in bed, just sat up straight this time.

Josh is shaking so bad he can hardly hold the spoon, soup splashing out and into the bowl, some landing on the comforter.

Tyler takes the bowl and the spoon and feeds Josh himself, pressing the back of his hand to Josh’s forehead every few minutes. “You’re sweating, but you don’t have a fever. And you’re _really_ pale.”

Josh actually laughs at the worried look on Tyler’s face, doubling in on himself at the pain it causes. “This is nothing. I’ve been sicker than this on tour, trust me.”

Tyler does trust Josh, enough so that he’s willing to sit with him and spoon feed him soup without a shirt on, skin pockmarked with lesions and sores that he thinks only waywardly about as he continues to pet Josh’s hair and skim his fingers down Josh’s cheek.

They spend most of the day in bed, huddled close and watching a movie on Tyler’s laptop.

But as evening rolls around, Josh harrumphs and moves to stand up. “I hate being cooped up in here all day. Let’s go downstairs.”

He fixes Josh another bowl of soup when they go downstairs and has to feed it to him again as they watch cartoons out of the corners of their eyes.

“Maybe you should go to the doctor?” Tyler asks as Josh practically vibrates. “I’ve never seen someone shake like this.”

“I-I have,” Josh waves it off. “C-come here and cudd-cuddle me?”

With a nod, Tyler worms his way into the comforter Josh has draped around him, practically laying on top of Josh and rubbing his nose against Josh’s smooth chest.

It’s only a few minutes later that Josh is squirming restlessly, bucking his hips up against Tyler’s like a question.

Tyler sighs and glances up at Josh’s sallow face. “You should rest.”

“But I _really_ want you,” he shakes out between chattering teeth.

“You can _really_ want me all you want, but-“ Tyler’s phone dings.

He’s loathe to drag himself up and check it, but realizes he hasn’t done so since yesterday afternoon. With a quick kiss to Josh’s shoulder, he sits up and grabs it to at least check the display.

Mom:  
_Did you answer Laura’s call?_

To Tyler’s surprise, when he swipes through his phone he finds two missed calls and a voicemail from Miss Dun. He decides to listen to the voicemail first, thinking it might be something about Squirt or the house.

As he holds the phone to his ear, Josh shivers miserably beside him and Tyler squeezes his leg.

“Hi, Tyler. It’s Laura - uh, Miss Dun. I hope everything’s going well. I heard from your mom that you told her Josh is at home? Um…he’s not really supposed to be there. So just give me a call back when you get this, please. Thanks.”

Click.

Josh has his eyes closed, head leaned against the back of the couch. He hasn’t heard a word of the message his mother left Tyler.

“Josh.”

“Mm?” One eye opens.

Tyler doesn’t know how to start this conversation, because he doesn’t even know what it’s about. What it’s going to be about. “Your mom called? She wanted to know why you were here.”

Josh all of a sudden looks very angry. He’s rising from his reclined position on the couch.

“That’s not actually true,” Tyler amends. “She said you weren’t supposed to be here. What does that mean?”

“You told her I was here?”

“I told my mom and she must have told your mom. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to. Why aren’t you allowed to be here?”

Josh no longer looks angry. Instead he looks worried, scared, frustrated. He’s still shaking, trembling horribly as he stares at Tyler with an indiscernible expression. “We have to have a very long talk.”

-

“I’m going through withdrawal.”

“Come again?”

“I’m not sick. This - the shaking, the being sick, the looking like a ghost - is because I’m going through withdrawal.”

Tyler is the one shaking now. “Withdrawal from what?”

Josh sighs, hangs his head between his legs. Tyler still has an urge to scoot closer, to comfort Josh and make sure he’s okay, make sure he hasn’t hit his head again. But he stays put and eventually Josh says, still from between his legs, “I’ve gotten into a lot worse than just pot, Tyler.”

Tucking his feet underneath himself, Tyler shrugs. “What, like acid, LSD-“

“Like heroin.”

Tyler knew that before Josh said it. Knew it as soon as he heard the word “withdrawal.” He just didn’t want to face it.

Now he has to.

“Part of the reason I wanted to have sex with you so badly was because I could already feel it, the itch. I needed smack, but I didn’t have any and sex sometimes…quells the urge, I guess.”

“Oh,” Tyler says numbly. He feels like he’s been smacked in the face. What an idiot he was, to think Josh would ever want to have sex with him just because he _wanted_ to, because he found Tyler desirable or…or…what was it he’d said? Cute.

Yeah, right.

“Jesus, Josh,” Tyler sighs.

“I know.”

“This isn’t okay.”

“I _know_.”

“I mean, you’re a…”

“A what?” Josh scowls at him, an unfamiliar look on his usually kind face. “Say it, Tyler. Tell me I’m a fucking drug addict because it’s n-nothing I don’t already know.”

“But you _are_ ,” Tyler says sadly.

“Why are you freaking out so much? I didn’t freak out when you showed me your-“ Josh cuts himself off, eyes immediately widening.

Because Tyler has stood from the couch and started gathering his things again. Only this time Josh can’t stop him.

“Oh, come on, Tyler. I didn’t say-“

“You didn’t have to.”

Josh stands by the window watching him as he calls his mother, follows him around the house as he gets his stuff.

He pulls at Tyler’s arms, tries to take his things from them and put them back where they were. Tries to fix what he’s ruined. But he’s far too weak to do much damage. He’s all “Tyler, please” and “please, don’t” and “don’t go.”

“Shut up,” Tyler spits, and eventually Josh retreats up the stairs.

Before he leaves, Tyler grabs the tweezers from the downstairs bathroom.

-

On the way home, Tyler stares out of the window and picks incessantly at his chin. For once his mother says nothing about it.

“Did you know?” Tyler asks when they’re about a mile from home.

His mother glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “About…”

“About Josh. Being into drugs.”

She sighs. “Laura had told your father and I that she kicked him out a while ago. She never directly said why, but…we got the gist of it.”

Tyler doesn’t wonder why no one ever told him or why he’s always the last to find things out or any of that bullshit. He never knew Josh personally anyway, so why should anyone tell him?

He only wonders why everything good eventually gets taken away from him.

-

He’s been home for two days when he gets a text from Miss Dun.

_Tyler, we’re so sorry about what happened at the house. We had no idea Josh would try to come home. We hope he wasn’t too much trouble and we’ll still be paying you for the whole week. Hope all is well and sorry again,_  
_Laura_

Tyler stares numbly at his phone.

And even though he’s the one who left, he waits for a text from Josh, then remembers they never exchanged numbers.

-

When he came home from his second surgery, his mom took all the tweezers in the house and hid them somewhere Tyler couldn’t find them. The hilarious thing was that she left the scissors and knives out because Tyler had no desire to actually cut himself.

It was the picking that took prevalence over everything else. And tweezers made picking and peeling things so much easier than just doing it with his fingernails. Once she caught him with bloody tweezers in hand, old scabs discarded on his desk and blood dribbling down his leg, she locked them up.

Now he has another pair. The ones he took from the Duns’ house.

He passes the instrument between his fingers, clamps the cuticle of his middle finger between the tongs and pulls. A small piece of skin comes off, doesn’t even hurt.

On his desk his laptop is open to the photo section of the derma forum. At the top of the page is a large blaring headline - [TRIGGER WARNING]

The pictures don’t make Tyler want to pick, but Josh’s unspoken words do.

He’s ugly and disgusting and these things he does to himself will never stop.

He presses the tweezers down on his thigh and goes to town.

-

Tyler’s in the kitchen getting a snack when the doorbell rings. No one else is home so he plans to ignore it, squirting more mustard onto his crackers and placing slices of cheese on after. It wouldn’t be anyone for him anyway - he lost all his friends after he basically became a hermit and he can’t very well face his siblings’ or his parents’ friends wearing what he’s wearing right now. A short sleeved shirt and athletic shorts that show off all his imperfections.

The bell rings again as he’s putting the mustard away. He shuts the fridge door and is halfway up the stairs with his meal when whoever is outside mashes their finger on the button and the ringing doesn’t stop.

“Jesus!” Tyler shouts, turning around and rolling his eyes. “Give me a minute!”

The ringing ceases.

Tyler puts the plate on a side table in the family room and then stands behind the door, opening it just enough to stick his head out.

The pink hair isn’t as pink, the gleeful smile not as gleeful. But Tyler knows a Josh when he sees one.

Almost immediately Josh kicks his foot out, between the door and the doorframe, apparently afraid Tyler’s going to slam it in his face.

Tyler quirks an eyebrow and Josh’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

“How do you know where I live?” Tyler asks.

“Um, my mom told me.” He stops and lets his eyes fall closed for a moment. “That’s a lie. I looked for your mom’s name in her address book.”

Tyler hums and doesn’t say a word.

Josh snaps his fingers and brings his fist down into the palm of his other hand. “Look, can we talk?”

Slamming the door is most definitely an option now. He can close the door and lock it and never have to talk to Josh again in his life. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to talk, needs it even. Closure.

“Sure. Can we talk outside, though?”

With a nod, Josh steps back.

“Let me just change first.”

He’s going to close the door when Josh says, “You don’t-“

 _You’re not ugly and you’re not weird_.

Josh presses his lips together into a hard line. Maybe he was going to tell Tyler he doesn’t have to change, that he looks fine as is.

Tyler shuffles his feet. “Just…gimme a minute, yeah?”

“Sure.”

He puts the plate of cheese in the fridge for later and then makes his way upstairs and changes as fast as he can into a pair of track pants and a jacket.

When he emerges into the front yard, Josh has taken a seat on the swing to the side of the walkway.

He stands when he sees Tyler, then sits again awkwardly once Tyler joins him.

Josh opens his mouth to begin, but Tyler wants the first word. “Were you ever even on tour?” He asks as gently as he can, even though he knows Josh doesn’t deserve it.

Josh’s answer is without hesitation. “Yes. You can look my band up and everything.”

“I did.”

“Oh?” Josh looks hopeful for some reason.

“Yeah, the other day…you aren’t in the band anymore.”

On the first page of Google, Tyler had read the current members’ names and then under that: _Formerly - Josh Dun (drums)_.

Josh squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Shit got bad while we were on tour. With the drugs. They kicked me out a few days before our last show, replaced me with some son of a bitch from the indie scene, I don’t know.”

Tyler worries at his bottom lip with his teeth, pinches the skin of his left hand index finger between his fingernails. Josh sees and immediately goes to grab Tyler’s hand.

Tyler pulls away. “Don’t do that.”

Looking lost, Josh rubs his palms over his legs. “Do you wanna keep talking?”

Tyler simply nods.

“Okay, so…” Josh runs a hand through his hair. “…before that, actually, is when my parents kicked me out. Jordan and my sisters had already moved out and my parents were pretty patient with me in the music scene - we all knew something would take off eventually, we just didn’t know when. They always knew I smoked pot and they didn’t really mind, but when I started getting into worse stuff, I…I, uh, started stealing their shit, y’know, selling it for drugs. It wasn’t something I ever planned, of course, but when I needed it…I needed it. So they kicked me out, changed the locks, and I went to live with a friend on the other side of town. I’m not saying they were wrong, Tyler, but…do you know how it feels to have your parents hate you?”

Tyler wants to say he does, but that’s a story for another time. “It’s sad that your parents turned their backs on you when you obviously needed them, but did you just expect them to sit by and let you steal their stuff?”

“I don’t know,” Josh sighs. “I feel like…they could’ve helped.”

“Maybe.” Tyler lights on a thought. “You were going through withdrawal, right? You look fine now - does that mean you’re clean?”

The silence that practically echoes through the front yard tells Tyler just how naive he really is about the matter at hand. “No.”

“When’s the last time you…used?”

“This morning. I called up a guy I used to know from Franklinton and got some stuff.”

Tyler really wants to cry. He looks down, at the blades of grass currently trampled under his feet. “…I really thought you liked me.”

“I did!” Josh looks at him like he’s crazy. “I _do_. Why would you think any differently?”

“Because you said…about the sex thing. You only wanted sex because it took your mind off the drugs.”

Pink hair sways back and forth as Josh shakes his head violently side to side. The bruise on his forehead is barely visible. “That’s not the only reason I wanted to have sex with you, Tyler. I wanted you because you were cute and obviously didn’t know anything about me and…I thought I could keep it that way. I really like you, I promise.”

Tyler doesn’t know anything about drugs, doesn’t ever want to know anything about them. He studies Josh for a second, squints at his eyes, his hands, his legs. Everything steady. “Are you high right now?”

“No.”

“But you wanna be.”

The skin around Josh’s eyes is all of a sudden very red. “Always.”

“Then I don’t think we should talk anymore.”

It takes all the strength he has to stand from the swing and start walking back toward the house, tears already welling in his eyes.

But Josh is much stronger, the grip around Tyler’s elbow like a vice. “Please don’t go!” Josh practically shouts, and as he pulls at Tyler’s arm, Tyler is wheeled around, colliding with Josh’s chest. They’re locked in an awkward embrace, one which Tyler wants to pull away from, but knows if he does he’ll never be this close to Josh again. “You’re beautiful, Tyler. You’re beautiful and smart and talented. And I’m…I’m willing to do whatever it is I have to do to keep you. I wanna know everything about you that I haven’t figured out yet. Because I really fucking like you.”

There’s so much Tyler needs to say, and for once he feels ready to. “You have to stop with the drugs. I don’t know how - rehab, whatever, I don’t care. But I can’t be with you unless you’re clean. And…” Surprisingly, this is the part he’s most nervous about. “…you have to know, my derma? It won’t stop. I can’t stop. I’ve tried so hard, but I’m gonna look like this forever.”

There’s a weird look in Josh’s eyes and he’s pushing his lips from side to side. “Have you tried therapy? Community, one on one, something like that?”

Tyler shrugs. “No, I-“

Josh finally lets him go, out of their awkward poses, and Tyler stays right where he is. “I have an idea. I’ll try rehab if you try therapy.”

The thought of therapy scares the shit out of him, the thought of talking to someone other than Josh about the picking, the thought of someone judging him. But he can see it on Josh’s face - the thought of rehab scares him, too. He takes Josh’s hand and decides. “Okay.”

Josh squeezes his fingers. “And I swear - even if the therapy doesn’t work, even if you can’t stop picking, I’ll stick with getting clean. And I’ll still love you.”

Tyler feels a little like he’s been shot. “Love?”

Josh rubs the back of his neck. “Well, y’know…I’ll…stay with you. And…stuff.”

Tyler bites his lip to keep from grinning, but he can’t quite keep the smile off his face. “Dude, you _love_ me.”

“Shut up, you little shit.” Josh lets go of his hand and hooks an elbow around Tyler’s shoulders instead.

Tyler’s a giggling mess, a hand planted on Josh’s chest as Josh nuzzles at his temple. His teeth graze the top of Tyler’s ear.

“Can I kiss you?” Josh asks as everything slows down.

“Yes.”

Josh plants his hands on either side of Tyler’s face and kisses him breathless on the front lawn as the sleeves of Tyler’s jacket slide down.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to anyone struggling with self-harm, an impulse control disorder, or addiction.
> 
> I'd like to extend a gigantic thank you to Steph and Ashlee for holding my hand through this. I never would have finished this if it weren't for them.
> 
> I have a [Tumblr](http://vintagetyler.tumblr.com/).


End file.
